Caste Violence in India: From Social Crime to Normalised Power- Editor’s Desk ✒️

The killings in Bhagalpur and Deoria expose how caste violence in India has shifted from exception to norm. Backed by silent political consent and fuelled by a media culture that thrives on polarisation, hatred has travelled from religious mobilisation to open caste aggression. When perpetrators feel socially entitled and legally immune, violence turns performative rather than criminal. This is not merely a law-and-order failure but a collapse of social reason itself. Any meaningful response must confront the ideological roots of hierarchy through scientific, egalitarian education—not moral appeals or episodic outrage.

Recent incidents in India—the mass attack on Dalits in Bhagalpur (Bihar) and the killing of an Adivasi man in Deoria district (Uttar Pradesh)—are not isolated acts of local brutality. They reflect a disturbing structural shift in Indian society: the gradual normalisation of caste violence as a routine and often tolerated expression of social power.

 It is important to note that caste is not merely a cultural identity in India; it is a historically entrenched system of hierarchy that determines access to land, education, dignity, and justice. Although the Indian Constitution formally abolished caste discrimination, social practice has continued to reproduce inequality—often through violence.
What is most alarming today is not only the persistence of caste-based crimes but their growing predictability. Such incidents no longer provoke sustained national outrage. They are quickly framed as “local disputes,” buried under procedural reporting, or reduced to episodic law-and-order failures. This signals a deeper crisis: the erosion of social reason within a constitutional democracy.
Caste violence in contemporary India cannot be explained solely by individual prejudice or rural backwardness. It is sustained by a psychology of impunity—shaped through indirect political consent and reinforced by a polarised media environment. When dominant social groups perceive themselves as culturally legitimate and legally protected, violence becomes an assertion of entitlement rather than a criminal act.
The role of the state is critical. Selective policing, delayed investigations, and uneven judicial responses send an implicit message that not all citizens are equally protected. While the state may not openly sanction caste violence, its inconsistent enforcement of the law creates a permissive environment in which hierarchy is maintained through fear.
Equally important is the role of Indian media. Over the past decade, large sections of the media have normalised hate by framing social conflict through rigid binaries—loyal versus anti-national, insider versus outsider. This narrative architecture was first deployed through religious polarisation. Increasingly, it has migrated into caste relations. Crimes are reported not as violations of universal rights but as clashes of identity, honour, or provocation. Violence is thus stripped of its criminal character and reframed as social reaction.
At the core of this violence lies a fundamental contradiction of Indian modernity. Democratic equality, instead of being universally embraced, is experienced by dominant caste groups as a threat. As Dalits, Adivasis, and other marginalised communities gain visibility through education, affirmative action, and political assertion, violence is deployed as a mechanism of social correction.
This violence is not pre-modern. It is deeply modern in its methods—circulating through social media, mobilising community networks, and producing symbolic spectacles of punishment. Lynching and targeted killings are meant not only to eliminate individuals but to discipline entire communities through fear.
Reducing caste violence to a policing problem misses its structural roots. While legal accountability is essential, it cannot substitute for social transformation. The persistence of such violence points to a failure of collective consciousness—a society that continues to view human beings primarily through inherited hierarchies rather than shared citizenship.
The only sustainable response lies in a commitment to scientific, egalitarian, and critical social education—education that dismantles mythologised histories, challenges the moral legitimacy of hierarchy, and treats caste as a system of power rather than cultural destiny. Schools, universities, media institutions, and public discourse must actively cultivate critical reasoning and ethical equality.
The events in Bhagalpur and Deoria are not merely Indian tragedies; they are global warnings. They remind us that formal democracy without social equality can coexist with everyday brutality—and that violence, once normalised, eventually becomes invisible.
 Recent incidents in India—the mass attack on Dalits in Bhagalpur (Bihar) and the killing of an Adivasi man in Deoria district (Uttar Pradesh)—are not isolated acts of local brutality. They reflect a disturbing structural shift in Indian society: the gradual normalisation of caste violence as a routine and often tolerated expression of social power.
 It is important to note that caste is not merely a cultural identity in India; it is a historically entrenched system of hierarchy that determines access to land, education, dignity, and justice. Although the Indian Constitution formally abolished caste discrimination, social practice has continued to reproduce inequality—often through violence.
What is most alarming today is not only the persistence of caste-based crimes but their growing predictability. Such incidents no longer provoke sustained national outrage. They are quickly framed as “local disputes,” buried under procedural reporting, or reduced to episodic law-and-order failures. This signals a deeper crisis: the erosion of social reason within a constitutional democracy.
Caste violence in contemporary India cannot be explained solely by individual prejudice or rural backwardness. It is sustained by a psychology of impunity—shaped through indirect political consent and reinforced by a polarised media environment. When dominant social groups perceive themselves as culturally legitimate and legally protected, violence becomes an assertion of entitlement rather than a criminal act.
The role of the state is critical. Selective policing, delayed investigations, and uneven judicial responses send an implicit message that not all citizens are equally protected. While the state may not openly sanction caste violence, its inconsistent enforcement of the law creates a permissive environment in which hierarchy is maintained through fear.
Equally important is the role of Indian media. Over the past decade, large sections of the media have normalised hate by framing social conflict through rigid binaries—loyal versus anti-national, insider versus outsider. This narrative architecture was first deployed through religious polarisation. Increasingly, it has migrated into caste relations. Crimes are reported not as violations of universal rights but as clashes of identity, honour, or provocation. Violence is thus stripped of its criminal character and reframed as social reaction.
At the core of this violence lies a fundamental contradiction of Indian modernity. Democratic equality, instead of being universally embraced, is experienced by dominant caste groups as a threat. As Dalits, Adivasis, and other marginalised communities gain visibility through education, affirmative action, and political assertion, violence is deployed as a mechanism of social correction.
This violence is not pre-modern. It is deeply modern in its methods—circulating through social media, mobilising community networks, and producing symbolic spectacles of punishment. Lynching and targeted killings are meant not only to eliminate individuals but to discipline entire communities through fear.
Reducing caste violence to a policing problem misses its structural roots. While legal accountability is essential, it cannot substitute for social transformation. The persistence of such violence points to a failure of collective consciousness—a society that continues to view human beings primarily through inherited hierarchies rather than shared citizenship.
The only sustainable response lies in a commitment to scientific, egalitarian, and critical social education—education that dismantles mythologised histories, challenges the moral legitimacy of hierarchy, and treats caste as a system of power rather than cultural destiny. Schools, universities, media institutions, and public discourse must actively cultivate critical reasoning and ethical equality.
The events in Bhagalpur and Deoria are not merely Indian tragedies; they are global warnings. They remind us that formal democracy without social equality can coexist with everyday brutality—and that violence, once normalised, eventually becomes invisible.